Baby it's cold outside

The holidays were busy, to say the least. Each year when I am packing up the Christmas items, I try to make it more efficient for next year. I have two boxes of decorations labeled family-friendly and fragile. A couple of years ago, my daughter and I decided to buy an artificial tree instead of a real one. If I’m honest, I miss the smell and softness of a real tree, but I don’t miss the mess or remembering to water it.

In an effort to make life easier and be environmentally friendly, I sewed a bunch of bags with Christmas-themed fabrics, and we use the bags every year. As well, if we don’t have enough bags for everyone to use, we practice the Japanese art of tsutsumi, where we use fabric and ribbons to wrap gifts. Trust me, it still looks beautiful once you add the ribbon and the label.

Despite the things I try to do to make my life easier during the holidays, I still manage to tire myself out. I don’t know if it’s because I see so many more patients leading up to Christmas, or if it’s because I leave a lot of things to the last minute (because of the number of patients), or if it’s because, psychologically, I know I have the time. Sure enough, every year about a day or two after Christmas, I get sick. Not COVID sick or pneumonia sick, but typically a simple cold—a cold that keeps me in bed for two or three days. Now, unlike some, when I’m sick I just want to be left alone. I want to drink tea and eat cookies (I know, poor health choice) and lie in my big, cozy bed with my dog.

Anyone who knows me knows that I rarely stop to take a breath. I have so many plans over the holidays and my time off. I plan to be in the gym every day. I plan to cross-country ski and finally get good at skate skiing. I plan to see friends and spend time with my kids and the rest of my family. Well, my body clearly has other plans for me. Instead, I end up watching bad TV and terrible Hallmark movies, re-reading the same paragraphs of my book over and over again, and sleeping. Man, can I sleep. I sleep most of the night, then half the day, then most of the night again. The other night, I slept for a solid, NyQuil-induced 11 hours.

I can’t help but question if this is the actual plan—that my grand ideas of doing ALL, and I mean ALL, the things during my week off should really just include, or be solely about, rest. The plan should be that I lock myself in my house with plenty of wood for the fire, whisky for my tea, clean cozy pajamas, and simply rest. We are a society that prides itself on doing, and I can’t say I am any different. I love to do! I always have. This is most likely my ADHD superpower. I do all the things and love every second. Doing all the things gives me immense joy, and I am energized by it. But perhaps in this season of my life (I’m in my 50s), I need to prioritize a bit more rest—practice saying no and do a little more listening to what my body needs rather than just pushing through.

I can say with certainty that my Christmas break was restful by necessity, and next year I will try to do it by design. How about you?